LIGHTNOVELONLINE Tear of Myelia
17th of May, 201st of NDE. Pesandriith Island, Tyrnalan Theocracy.
One of the myriad tales told about Myelia involved the first child she gave birth to from the union with Bhahamuth. A boy whose name were lost to the annals of history, but not his actions which secured the future, the present all the folk could enjoy.
According to the tale, said boy was a natural born leader who born with the divine beauty and magical prowess of his mother, the strength and charisma of his father. He could lift mountains with a thought, crumble adramantyrium just by curling his fist, and his voice carried the depth of natural born leaders which formed words creating legions of loyal followers who followed him into the last battle of the First Crusade.
Where his fate was sealed, and where Myelia shed the first of her tears upon the sacrifice of her dearest child. With his sacrifice, the Wound that connected our world to the hellish Stygian Realms closed and remained as is for several eons. Yet it was not the only time her tears flowed down her soft, celestial cheeks.
As days, weeks, months, years, centuries and eons passed his name, his face were devoured by the cruel, uncaring jaws of history and when the second crusade began – by the folly of envious, of the prideful, of the wrathful – the heavenly nectar flowed from her eyes that gleamed with myriad shifting shades.
Nectar that quickly hardened and fell on the wicked sinners whose soils are forever tormented in the deepest realms. With ages passing, they had been known as the Tears of Myelia, crystallized stalactites which pulsed with the many glows of her eyes and which granted certain arcane knowledge to all who held these divine artifacts, bringing them onto the levels of Freianna and Ceioinus.
A few said to be in the care of the Black Rose Order, tightly guarded on their floating island, while many other remained unaccounted for. Except for one, which was found by the Tyrnalan clergy of Myelia on the small island north-west of their peninsula called Pesandriith – named after a Pesandra an ancient witch who worshipped Myelia in solitude who was said to be a great-great granddaughter of the Nameless Son whom she wept for twice.
Upon it the Tyrnalan Church built a temple dedicated to Myelia which later got expanded into a headquarters of the Prismatic Sparrows – the Tyrnalan Militant Myelia Sect. Said Sparrows now guard the single Tear of Myelia zealously while also hoarding the grimoires and tomes of the most prominent mages and sorcerers of the central alliance. Which all together made this island a target for many organizations wishing to get their hands on the Tear or various ancient tomes.
One such organization was the Black Rose Order who wished to get all the Tears under their protection – which they first wished to get through diplomatic means. But the Tyrnalans never relented, so the time had come to take it through a proxy. A proxy they could trust in the sense she would get it without a hitch while also keeping their hands clean so to speak.
**
Rhommi hanged upside down from the thick branch of one of the many trees which bloomed leaves of myriad shades. Her eyes behind the mask followed the trailing Sparrow – a tall dracorith man with a handsome, androgynous face – with luxuriant hair slicked to the back, a silver diadem adorning his forehead and a ebony black beret atop his head.
He wore the colorful, sleek uniform of the Prismatic Sparrows which consisted of a long coat of slendinian leather. As he walked, the vibrant color constantly shifted in a prismatic cavalcade while it possessed a smooth surface with a refined luster pretty close to the dragonid leather garments of the Black Rose. The thick overcoat itself was tailored with meticulously calculated and drawn out contours and asymmetry.
A carefully curved hem, cuffs and collar which reached high to his chiseled elven cheek covered in aquamarine scales. Said neck itself were folded out and sewn in an asymmetrically triangular shape with softer curves compared to the new Black Rose uniforms. In the same vein the lapels that extended from the neck were sewn onto the coat’s front with asymmetrical sizes – the left one on each were slightly larger and had sharper point compared to the right.
On the shoulders glass-like mosaic straps stood leisurely, brimming with many different colors that shifted with each movement as he tracked along the cut-out road. The same pattern decorated the interior, the asymmetrical lapels in a silken form.
The utility belt was much thinner, resembled the ones found on bathrobes both in length and the need to be knotted together. On the sides of the placket, archaic, celestial glyphs adorned the smooth leathery surface.
Under the overcoat, he wore the issued ebony black ucidous satin – which gave it a menacingly radiant luster and smoothness – shirt with equally high triangular, long pointed collars with soft contours and a silken cravat of shifting prismatic hue to give an air of elegance while on the sides small, pressed down epaulettes rested on the shoulders. And like with the overcoat, instead of a button or zipper, both piece of refined garment close with a magnetic lock.
She tapped her mask’s porcelain chin as she pondered then shrugged her shoulders and let gravity do its thing while she rotated around mid-fall and not long before she landed in front of him quite gracefully with a bit of magical aid.
“Hands up in the air!” The man shouted the moment Rhommi appeared in front of him. She rose her arms high above her masked head, and walked towards him. With each step, the dracorith Fratellian became dizzy, and lost his footing as his vision became blurry, then swallowed by the darkness.
“Too easy.” Rhommi said with a sigh as she dragged the unconscious guard off the road into the thick embrace of prismatic bushes, shrouded by the colorful shadows of a towering tree. She took his identification crystal and card before half of her left arm disappeared while pulling out several coils of rope and a roll of silver sealing tape.
Within seconds, he sat with back against the mossy bark with his arms behind his back, wrists tightly knotted together, arms pressed against his sides by the thick draining rope which looped around his waist. His bulging thighs and ankles locked together by the harsh rope and the patches of prismatic tint appeared on the gleaming surfaces of the tape wrapped around her mouth and eyes.
Rhommi lifted his head up to which he let out a muffled grunt. Her thumb pressed against his forehead and lit up in a violet arcane light as her eyes focused on his mesmerizing androgynous fair face. Not long before, she fully resembled him, uniform included which she straightened after she stood up. Then he gasped and hit her forehead and procured one more coil of rope she used to fix him to the tree for extra measures before she returned to the road and continued the patrol.
**
She easily passed through the gate – one part thanks to the high-grade spell she used to mimic others given to her by her divine blood, and one part because of the identification card and crystal in the mimicked coat’s breast pocket.
Though she stopped numerous time as she had to salute to each and every sister and brother of her disguise donor. Thankfully, the Raven Eye agents who captured her and kept Mordh as their bargaining chip hammered into her the customs of the Tyrnalans and the Prismatic Sparrows.
In the end, the sun started descending in the east by the time she reached her first destination – the room of the Watcher. Unlike other military hosts – including the Black Roses – the Prismatic Sparrows still relied on the magicraft invention known as the Mirage Mirror.
Before she entered though, she closed her eyes and the darkness within dissipated to reflect her disguised form from a sort of bird eye view – if the bird was contained within the wide and high corridor she stood in stiffly. Then when she was sure the last person passed by, she slowly opened the door to the room.
She let out a soft sigh noticing the singular Sorellana sleeping in the comfortable chair in front of the numerous mirror surfaced screens. Behind her, she stopped in her tracks and her eyes looked all over the screens. In one she noted numerous guards on their knees, their palms locked together, their heads hunched down as they muttered their silent praying to the statue of Myelia which drawn her eyes to itself.
In another she noted the underground cells with only a few filled with prisoners hung in the air by a single rope which bound their wrists, short strips of tape covered their lips and their eyes were blindfolded by silken scarves. There was even a female stygian with soft, pepper toned skin and sharply curving horns whom clearly possessed soft elvish curves to her ears and cheeks.
In the end her eyes stopped on the screen reflecting the treasure, brimming with Prismatic Sparrows stoically standing in each corner with two posted near a large, golden metallic gate which housed her target – the singular Tear of Myelia possessed by them.
Rhommi’s right hand sprung into action and covered the sleeping orii elves mouth who woke up suddenly with a muffled grunt, then just as suddenly, fell back to sleep as an ethereal needle passed through her collars and into her neck, pouring inscriptions into her mind that beckoned her back to the lands of dreams.
She procured her roll of silver sealing tape while she lifted the golden blonde haired Sorellana out of the chair and onto her shoulder before she placed her face down onto the nearest, single desk. She put her wrists together on her back and locked mana ties around them, then did the same with her ankles before she finished by tearing off a wide strip and applied it from behind, sealing her plum lips, smoothening her palm across the glistening piece once.
“Sleep well.” She muttered softly as she hid the guard inside the closet and closed it on her before she left. Stepping out she decided to change her disguise and went back inside the search for the next unwilling donor – a solfrith Sorellana patrolling not far from the treasury.
**
Rhommi and the Solfrith Sparrow practically kicked open the door with her buttocks as they rushed into the empty storage room, their lips locked together in a storm of passion. Her original plan was to draw the solfrith away with honeyed words, maybe a little kissing and stroking here and there before knocking her out.
To her surprise – as this memory was not sucked out from the dracorith – the two were lovers already and the solfrith needed little convincing for a playful break. Rhommi praised her divine father for smiling upon her on this day as the solfrith – blessed with a radiant amber toned skin, refined elven features and silken, voluminous hair bundled into a franchoin twist was within her taste range.
As the solfrith stroked her non-existent – but thanks to the high grade spell – highly sensitive phallus she remembered why she was here. With a swift strike coated in mind altering spell, she knocked the guard out who slumped onto her shoulder. “Just when it got fun.”
She lowered her down to the ground then procured two mana ties and the roll of silver sealing tape. As she rolled her onto her sides, she halted for a moment and decided to enjoy it at least. With her fake teeth, she ripped the roll wide open and attached the open end. With slow and scrupulous movements, she wrapped the guards wrists together and pressed the tape onto it.
Then she sat behind her while once more ripping it open and looping it around her waist while she kissed her neck between her collars. As the hot, sweetened breath from her fake nostrils breezed the smooth skin of hers, the unconscious Solfrith moaned long and soft, even bit her gleaming, meaty lips.
Even her head slumped back onto Rhommi’s broad, elven shoulders and their lips locked together as she took the appearance of the guard while also wrapping the tape around her thighs with precision. Their tongues intertwined and they leaned forward but stopped and instead snapped her fingers gently. The roll floated in the air and attached the flapping, thin and sticky end onto her ankles while circled around them as they too raised as passion filled the sleeping guard.
Rhommi without thinking slipped one hand into her own pants, and another into hers and started massaging their private areas, yet at the climax she stopped. “Maybe another time. My Mordh awaits.” She muttered as the roll flew into her hands and she tore a wide strip off she pressed onto the moaning guards lips and cheeks. She gave her one last kiss onto her taped mouth and draped her in an enchanted sheet which turned her invisible.
**
Rhommi stood over the eight guards sitting at the wall, muffled grunts escaping their sealed lips. In total two orii elves – one dark haired, young Sorellana and one Fratellian with short, cropped azure blue hair – rested close to the golden gate which sealed the Tear in a small room surrounded by frescoes of Myelia and her Nameless Son.
Directly on their left, a snaelfrith Fratellian rested bound and gagged, his long golden hair flowed down on one shoulder. Beside him a dracorith of orii elven flesh and blood slept with her shining copper red hair bundled into a single, long tail.
Following them were a twin pair of solfrith Sorellans with matching golden skin that reminisced Rhommi of the setting sun’s shade, while their hair was as dark as the night that followed while both were trimmed into an angular bob just to make it even more of a headache to tell them apart, she thought.
And the last two were a sol elven dracorith Fratellan and another snaelven Fratellan with neatly trimmed beard which paired eerily with his androgynous look. She looked outside the window and noticed that the prismatic canopy blanketed in dark shades of crimson and purple as the sun was barely visible under the eastern horizon.
She slapped her hands together and her disguise faded as she placed her gloved palms onto the reflective gate surface while channeling her mana through the arcane veins. Her body became transparent and she effortlessly pushed through the thick, metallic gate while shadowy glyphs in runic circles danced on the surface.
Tendrils formed from them and slipped into the walls and wrapped around the swirling inscriptions which prevented entrance and exit from the room. Within the span of a short breath, these inscriptions dissipated and Rhommi walked inside the lightless room, lit only by the radiant, prismatic glow of the Tear.
“What a fine piece.” She muttered after a short, rhythmic whistle, then as soon as she touched it, a whirlpool of sadness assaulted her mind and she felt her own tears streaming out from her eyes behind them mask. At the same time she felt ecstatic while her arcane points burned and tickled her whole being and divine confidence manifested within her as she let out a prideful, yet also sorrowful laugh.
Then she let go of the tear and fell against the gate and slumped down to the floor wheezing. “Fuckin hells. They should have informed me those bitches.” She cursed under her mask as she took off the mask and wiped off and dried her moistened pale face of wicked, ghastly beauty.
“Okay, Rhommi you can do it for Mordh.” She mustered her strength and grabbed the Tear that stopped rolling on its jaggedly refined sides while at the same time pouring mana into all her arcane points while also forming them into inscriptions and focusing her mind onto the small room of the veiled Sky-Vessel of the Raven Eyes.
The moment she touched the Tear once more, her internal mana’s exploded in magnitude and the high grade inscription stepped beyond the mortal realm as she vanished into nothing within the lightless room.